A Moment That Altered My Perspective: My Train Was in an Accident – and afterward I Overheard a Child Weeping.

That instant it dawned on me I was about to die came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to catch up with a former classmate who had recently moved there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and enjoying the thought of the social gathering to come, we conversed constantly as we traveled by train from York.

We stashed our bags – containing vital items such as wine bottles and my brand-new black clogs – on the overhead rack and settled down in a comfortable double seat. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, this time impossible to ignore. Someone cried out as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a dreamlike pace. All at once, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Head down, vision blocked, I anticipated the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our loved ones hearing the tragic update. Then I heard the child sobbing.

“Everything is okay,” I whispered, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I stated, mostly for my own benefit.

She was about seven or eight years old, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her crying shook me out of my trance; this was my opportunity to be useful. I went to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don't turn around,” Helen yelled, the warning came after the fact. I caught sight of a man with blood all over his face. A large metallic item had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we found out a driverless construction vehicle had rolled down the hill and collided with the train, leading to the derailment.

Our car was lodged with its front end in the air. Following that came of sirens and a man nearby requested that I to hand the child over so he could pass her through the window, where children were being evacuated to emergency personnel below. Not long afterward, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and descending via a ladder on to the track.

Standing on firm land again – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I looked for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been using the restroom at the time of the accident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. A fellow passenger plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. After a half-hour wait, we proceeded in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the woman who had damaged the suitcase. Our host was there, pale with worry. She knew there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and made her a cup of tea while she anticipated updates.

Bolstered by youthful resilience, we put the train crash to one side and continued with our evening plans, which included a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, even though several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I got away with bruises and aches and pains from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in averting grave physical damage. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to dwell on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who left a lasting impact on me. Attending to her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and taught me the worth of focusing on others in a crisis. In the decades since, I have repeatedly asked myself if she remembered anything about it, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for thirty-plus years and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle any situation, as long as we're side by side. Having her companionship during the accident created the sensation that I was protected from the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my method of handling various difficult situations, providing me with insight – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to get older.